‘It’s the DNA results that I’m worried about. Not in a Jeremy Kyle way, but I don’t think they’re going to be … straightforward.’
‘Well, isn’t it that the point of a reveal? Like, the surprise element is the hook, right?’
‘Yeah, obviously. But …’
‘Oh! Oh!’ Rory grabs my knee, her eyes wide. ‘Do you think you’re the love-child of someone famous? Mick Jagger? You could have, like, twenty siblings by now.’
‘Not quite …’
‘Go on, put me out of my misery.’
‘Well, you know there are questions about who he is. My dad.’
‘I know that him and Lorrie weren’t properly together, right? She bonked him during her activist days, didn’t she?’ I grimace, but nod regardless. ‘You must know his name though.’
‘Nope.’
‘Really?! Bloody hell. Lorrie really went for the “dine and dash” approach. Dark horse.’ I put a finger to my lips, willing Rory to talk a little more quietly. She grins and scratches lipstick from her front teeth. ‘You must have asked at some point,’ she says.
‘Yeah, but not recently. Every time I do, she ignores the question and overreacts, as though the idea that I’m curious about him is proof that she’s failed at bringing me up properly. As far as my father goes, the only thing I know is that they met during a protest about dolphins. Or whales. Some sort of sea creature. Anyway, he died when I started primary school. Not sure when exactly.’
‘I can’t imagine that’s going to make for an uplifting watch,’ says Rory. ‘Do Snooper know about your family history?’
‘Only what I told Duncan in the first meeting. Basically, that it’s kind of a mystery.’
Rory props her chin in her hand and taps the table, thinking. ‘What kind of vibe are they going for during the live stream?’
‘It’s Snooper, isn’t it? So, light-hearted banter and wide-eyed reactions. Something they won’t have difficulty editing into little clips for short attention spans.’
‘That doesn’t sound so bad. Still, it’s a pretty extreme way to explore your family history.’
‘Trust me, this is the better option. It’s not just an opportunity to show Duncan I can do more than check for misplaced commas, but I get to find out about him, whoever he is. This is one way to do it.’
‘I’m surprised it’s taken you this long. In all the time we’ve known each other, you haven’t once gone into Full Ava Mode. I thought you’d be pinning a bunch of Lorrie’s old receipts and photos to the wall to map her movements during 1991 with red string and a stack of Post-its.’
‘As much as I love the thrill of a colour-coded research project, this one is too complicated,’ I say, massaging my scalp. My leg jiggles so much that our teaspoons rattle on their saucers. Rory holds my wrists, performing a slow inward breath. I copy her.
‘Do you remember when you sorted through five years of medical school notes for me? Three thousand pages stacked and categorised with coloured tabs and so much highlighter you could have self-referred to a solvent abuse clinic?’
I nod, feel my brow soften, and allow my shoulders to retreat an inch or two away from my ears. ‘I had to dust off my industrial hole-punch for that. It was a good use of annual leave.’
‘There we go. Feel better?’
‘A bit.’
Rory grins and plucks a loose blonde hair from my jumper.
‘You can always pretend you’re ill if don’t want to do this today. I’ll write you a doctor’s note.’
I pick at my thumbnail, which has been painted a lurid shade of green. ‘Seriously, it’s fine. I just feel a bit weird because Mum goes twitchy and awkward whenever I bring him up. Getting my ancestry results on a live stream feels … underhand.’ I run my tongue across my teeth. The coffee is making my heartbeat throb, the effect more debilitating than restorative. ‘I don’t feel prepared enough and I’m not sure Max has even read the script. We had one snatched conversation about it last week by the vending machine. Did you know he’s the middle child of three brothers? Think we all could have guessed that …’
‘Try and relax into it. It won’t be as bad as you think,’ says Rory, squeezing my hand. ‘Come on. I’ll walk you to the station. Take this.’ She slides her Lotus biscuit over the table towards me. I pick it up and hold it to my chest.
‘I’m honoured.’
‘Just in case you need a sugar hit at some point.’ Rory stands up, swings a bag across her chest, and flicks a lighter until her cigarette glows amber.
‘Oh, hang on. I owe you for this coffee trip,’ I say, consulting an app on my phone. So far, your tab stands at £32.70 and mine is £26.60.’
Rory laughs, the cigarette puckered between her lips. She takes a drag and blows the smoke over her shoulder. ‘I’ll get this, on one condition,’ she says, pulling me to my feet.
‘What’s that?’
‘That you give Max my number.’
‘Are you sure? I can’t verify that he’s had all his jabs.’
‘If it comes to it, I’ll walk him to the clinic myself,’ she says, bumping me with her hip. ‘Fancy coming out after work? Waterloo? Me and some of the hospital gang are planning to get drunk on pink wine.’
‘Maybe another time? I promised Mum I’d help out at this school thing tonight. Kind of hoped you’d be there.’
‘Ah, of course. I can’t face a children’s choir tonight, especially if they’re doing split harmonies. Right. I’ve got to go. Good luck! I’ll be watching from here!’ she says, tapping her phone.
Chapter 3
I swipe into our building, hang my bag on the back of my chair, and scan down today’s schedule in my bullet journal. I’m nine minutes behind. Bloody train strike. My phone buzzes with a calendar reminder telling me to head to the dressing room, where I’m given a white crop top and baggy trousers to wear. My
